


thank you for the food

by rpshoodini



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, just guys trying to communicate and working out their feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:41:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26463580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rpshoodini/pseuds/rpshoodini
Summary: “These things are too expensive for what they’re worth,” Sakyo commented, scrutinizing the colorful pictures of various dishes put up on the wall with spiteful eyes. “Those kiddie meals, above all. What a big scam.”Due to certain circumstances, Azami and Sakyo ended up having their lunch together at a family restaurant.
Relationships: Furuichi Sakyou & Izumida Azami
Comments: 5
Kudos: 50





	thank you for the food

**Author's Note:**

> Set after Act 9, kind of.

There was an office behind the traditional-styled Izumida residence, which Azami was forbidden to enter during what Sakyo labeled as “busy periods”. His father used it for the group’s annual meetings.

Despite their claims of Ginseikai being a “peaceful yakuza group” and their lack of participation in violent raids, at the end of the day, they were still, by any means, more or less a morally questionable syndicate. Pleas for forgiveness of the small fry members weren’t uncommonly heard coming from the room, followed by the thundering roar of the boss or something along those lines. At some point, Izumida Kikuo decided that those weren’t very kids-friendly.

That being the case, sometimes Azami was told not to go out of his room at all. Sometimes he didn't return by his own will and spent the night at Shifuto’s place instead, because having too much croquette udon than what’s considered healthy was comparably better than being restrained in his own home.

Some other times, a certain figure of a blond haired man with a near permanent wrinkle between his brows, clad in the tackiest outfit Azami had ever witnessed in his ten years of life, appeared in front of his cram school, attracting anxious glances from the passersby.

 _So embarrassing._ Azami buried his face in his hand. Inhale, exhale. _He can do this._

Azami took a step forward. The plan was to ignore Sakyo and move along as if they were complete strangers. It soon proved to be futile, since Sakyo was quick to notice his presence and tap his shoulder from behind, stopping him at his tracks.

“The boss is holding a meeting tonight, he asked me to take you for dinner somewhere out.”

“I know—I’m gonna crash at Shifuto’s,” Azami defiantly replied.

Sakyo crossed his arms. “Don’t you think you’ve been going to that kid’s place too often? Not to mention, both of you have school tomorrow, which means…”

 _This is why I hate coming home with you,_ Azami thought, and cut him off with a hiss before he could delve deeper into his scolding. “I get it, I get it! Let’s get out of here already.”

They wound up in a family restaurant that night, per Azami’s request. Sakyo had planned to take him to a corner ramen shop, but one fierce screaming match was what it took for Sakyo to finally concede defeat. He didn’t sound any more complaints afterwards, giving no more than a look of loathing towards the meal set that the boy ordered (it came with a small plastic toy as a bonus).

Azami made a satisfied noise. Then, it occurred to him that Sakyo hadn’t picked anything for himself.

“You forgot to order,” Azami told him, only to receive a dismissive shrug in return.

“I didn’t plan to.”

Azami narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“I’ve… had dinner on my way to pick you up.”

“Liar,” Azami countered. “If you don’t eat, you’ll get even skinnier than you already are, and soon you’ll find yourself beaten to pulp in a ditch somewhere.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Sakyo retorted with a frown. His slender build had always been a sensitive topic—it was for that exact reason Azami enjoyed poking at this subject.

“It will.”

Sakyo clicked his tongue. “We’ve got food at home. These stuff are simply too expensive for what they’re worth.”

So that’s what it is. Reprimanding him for buying a new make-up kit because he allegedly “haven’t run out of the old ones yet” was one thing (they have different shades, for god’s sake!), but this time the point of issue was food, literal food needed by humans in order to survive. Although Sakyo had always been far from generous, this cheapskate behavior was entirely on another level, one that Azami just couldn’t wrap his head around.

“Father gave you more than enough, he won’t even notice if you snitch, like, five hundred yen from his stash,” Azami argued.

“I owe a lot to your father. I can’t double-cross him behind his back.”

“You can tell him that I bought two servings for myself or something.”

“Stop talking. Just eat,” Sakyo snapped, his tone final. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

It pissed Azami off whenever Sakyo started handling him with kid gloves. Therefore he deliberately refused to face him, fixing his gaze at the windows viewing outside instead, and since Sakyo himself didn’t make any move to give grounds, the next several seconds were spent in tense silence from both parties.

Eventually Azami spoke up, after a few not-so-subtle attempts at glancing to the older man’s direction.

“Hey, Sakyo.”

“What?”

Azami clenched his jaw. “Nevermind.”

Impossible. He couldn’t bear to look at his face without getting irked, let alone hold a proper exchange.

To his relief, a waiter came to deliver his order not long after, the perfect distraction to prevent any further interaction between them. He was within a hair’s breadth of digging in when Sakyo abruptly snatched the plate away from his reach without as much as a simple warning. As one would’ve expected, Azami got furious.

“Hey!”

“Where are your manners?” Sakyo said without missing a beat.

Azami pouted. “You’re the worst,” he spat with as much vitriol that a ten year old could muster, yet put his hands together. “Thank you for the food,” the words spilled out of his mouth at last, albeit begrudgingly.

Sakyo gave him a curt acknowledging nod before sliding the plate back to its owner. “Good. Be respectful to your meals.”

Shitty four-eyes, Azami inwardly cursed, and stabbed at his peas more viciously. It wasn’t that delicious of a meal, anyway.

* * *

“These things are too expensive for what they’re worth,” Sakyo commented, scrutinizing the colorful pictures of various dishes put up on the wall with spiteful eyes. “Those kiddie meals, above all. What a big scam.”

Following his line of sight, Azami turned to glance at the same pictures. He squinted his eyes to take a better look at their prices, all typed in bold letters. Unsurprisingly, they weren’t insanely overpriced or anything, it was just Sakyo being super tight on budget as usual. Azami shot the man an accusing gaze from behind the menu he was flipping through.

“Just because you’re a stingy old geezer doesn’t mean you’re allowed to rob happiness from little children, you know,” he muttered.

“You used to beg for me to buy one of those every time we went to this sort of place,” Sakyo rambled on without paying him any heed, supporting his chin on his elbow. “Such a stubborn brat, started to whine when the taste didn’t live up to his expectation and made me eat them instead, on top of that…”

Azami’s grip on the menu tightened. “Don’t remember.”

Sakyo snorted. “Of course you don’t.”

 _This prick_. Azami itched to strangle him on the spot, but one couldn’t just murder people in a family restaurant. Sulking, on the contrary, was a feasible option, thus sulk Azami did, reminiscing the sequence of events that led him to this pathetic plastic chair across the one guy he least desired sharing a table with, while he could’ve had room 106 all for himself for the whole afternoon, scrolling through his favorite brand’s website for the latest seasonal trends with his headphones on.

How did they end up in this situation, again?

Right. Ironically, it started as a bright and peaceful Sunday.

Azami was on his way back to the dorms after grabbing some stuff from home. He had managed to sneak in-then-out without running into the master of the house, and even had a short pleasant talk with Ken-san before taking his leave. He figured lady luck was on his side and expected his streak of great fortunes to hold for the course of the day. With that in mind, he supposed he could make it in time for Omi’s lunch.

However, it turned out to be too early to make this call. Despite the fine weather in the morning, the skies began to darken as he boarded his train, and by the time he got off at Veludo Station it was already pouring. 

Azami didn’t bring an umbrella, though technically speaking, it wasn’t raining so heavily that he couldn’t run all the way to the dorm. The only downside to that option was that he would get severely drenched and have to go through the trouble of drying his hair again. He briefly thought of calling Kumon to pick him up, but after some consideration, decided to just wait until the rain had let up a bit. There was no need to cause Kumon trouble, he wasn’t in any rush to begin with.

It was a Sunday, so Veludo Station was more crowded than usual, mostly with those who came to watch plays, from the look of it. Azami leaned on a pillar at the station front, staring vacantly at brochures of past performances on the information board. The rhythmic pitter-patter of the rain hitting the canopy overhead echoed in the background, it made his eyelids grow heavy.

“What are you doing here?”

A rough voice came from behind his back, familiar yet unwelcome, and jolted him out of his fleeting moment of peace. He didn’t even need to peek to place a guess, even though he awfully wished for his prediction to turn out wrong.

Azami gritted his teeth in contempt. “None of your business.”

He turned around and immediately locked eyes with a pair of sharp violet orbs. Sakyo gave him a dismayed look. Azami remained hostile while Sakyo’s eyes moved about, assessing his appearance.

At last Sakyo was the first to yield, saying, “you forgot your umbrella, didn’t you,” like he had just made the most groundbreaking discovery of the decade.

“What a clever observation. I’m scared, so scared,” Azami deadpanned. The corners of Sakyo’s lips curled downwards.

“I’ve repeatedly told you to keep one in your bag, but no, you never listened,” Sakyo muttered. Still with the same exasperated air, he took an umbrella out of his own bag and opened it, followed by a tilt of his head at the empty space beside him. “Geez, it can’t be helped. Let’s go.”

Azami couldn’t believe his ears. Sharing an umbrella with Shithead Sakyo? He must be joking. First of all, it is beyond embarrassing for two men to share an umbrella. Not to mention, it wasn’t practical—Sakyo’s tiny ass umbrella wouldn’t be able to cover both of them completely, so if they would end up with their shoulders wet anyway, what’s even the point of using an umbrella?

As if he had read his mind, Sakyo impatiently tapped his foot and added, “either you come with me or I’m gonna stand here until I’ve seen you return to the dorm myself, your choice.”

Azami could sense an empty threat when he heard one, and had known Sakyo enough to trust that he wouldn’t hesitate to stick to his words if Azami didn’t relent. Even the thought of having to spend any longer in the same vicinity as Sakyo sent chills through his back and made his blood boil, therefore he forced himself to step in next to Sakyo and picked up his pace. Just one trip and they would be done with it, he told himself.

However, it appeared that Sakyo had other ideas. Merely a few metres from the station, Azami noticed how the man took a strange turn which, if his memory served him right, was the exact opposite of the direction Mankai Company was supposed to be located in. Suspicious.

“The dorm’s not this way. Has your memory finally deteriorated or what?”

Sakyo showed no signs of slowing down. “We’re dropping by somewhere for lunch.”

“The hell?” Baffled, Azami’s voice took a higher register. “What about Omi-san?”

Instead of answering right away, Sakyo pushed his glasses up in that know-it-all manner that Azami despised the most. “Fushimi is visiting his family home for the weekend, he won’t be back until tomorrow morning. Didn’t you pay attention during the meeting?”

Nope, Azami didn’t, really, but there was no way he’s admitting that Sakyo was right, thus sulkily he kept his mouth shut and let himself be led into the restaurant. To tell the truth, he was expecting Sakyo to pick somewhere cheaper, like that yakitori shop he took him and Omi to at that time, so it somewhat came as a surprise when they headed to a proper family restaurant. Not that he was complaining.

Azami picked a table in a far corner. He snatched the menu as soon as he was seated. If he had to eat with Sakyo, the least he could do was to order something appetizing enough to make this lunch more bearable, Sakyo’s frugal lifestyle be damned. Hence a full-set hamburger steak being the obvious choice.

Sakyo closed his menu and handed it to the waitress as well. “And one black coffee,” he said, then returned to fiddle with his phone.

As the waitress scurried away, Azami peered at his face with an incredulous expression. “That’s all?”

Sakyo didn’t even bother to raise his head. He was busy typing a message, for the Director perhaps, as there seem to be a lot of deleting and retyping involved.

“Is there a problem with that?” Sakyo responded.

Azami drew a breath. “Thought we’re here for lunch,” he began, stressing every word.

“Coffee can be lunch.”

“Yeah, for morons.”

Sakyo sent him a glare at breakneck speed. Good, now he had earned his attention.

“Listen, I understand that you have a fixation on caffeine and alcohol, but nutrition actually has a big role in skincare. No amount of foundation could disguise a poor complexion or dry skin perfectly, and guess what, those exact two are what's in store for you, if you keep that horrible diet up.”

“You’ve become nosy, don’t you.”

Sensing a vein popping on his temple, Azami pounded the table with his palms. “Fine! Go starve and get ugly, see if I care.”

He tried to calm himself down by fishing his own phone from his pocket and began mindlessly scrolling through the LIME notifications. Clicking on the autumn troupe group chat, an idea to snap a candid picture of Sakyo in some stupid pose and send it to his troupemates struck him. When he was about to open the camera app, he realized that Sakyo had put his phone down and been looking his way all along.

Azami raised a brow. “What are you starin’ at?”

Sakyo averted his gaze at once. “Something similar to this situation happened with Hyodo, before you joined the troupe,” he mused. “That guy wouldn’t stop ordering desserts… feels like deja vu.”

Azami didn’t know much about Mankai before he joined the troupe, moreover because during that period he had been purposely avoiding Sakyo due to his betrayal, but it didn’t mean he knew nothing at all about the plays. It wasn’t like anyone could turn a blind eye on how hyped up Sakoda became every time an autumn troupe performance was coming near or how incessant he was at showing off “aniki’s special merchs” to other group members. There was also that one time the whole group went to watch a play together.

While it’s true that he had asked around about the previous plays, like how they managed to run their shows with just five actors or earn no complaints on their make-up before he volunteered to become their artist (“The contour is _so_ off! And don’t let me get started on the highlight—”), he couldn’t help but wonder if there were things he could never be part of. Everyone in the company easily warmed up to him, so he never once felt left out, but sometimes when they began to refer to an inside joke or exchange meaningful glances, Azami just kind of, well, stood there, dumbfounded.

It got especially weird whenever Sakyo was involved, because Azami had been sure that he knew everything about the guy.

In the beginning he brushed it off as a byproduct of their mutual disability to communicate their real intentions properly, as Tasuku had said. Yet after reconciling with Shifuto, it dawned on him that no matter how hard he tried to fix broken bridges, some changes were simply permanent. Some gaps would never be completely filled. Their memories of those times when they were drifting apart didn’t include each other. 

And although Azami had come to accept this fact, he still found it perplexing at times.

For instance, he certainly hadn’t heard about Sakyo treating Juza to desserts at a family restaurant—he couldn’t even picture those two, with their scary faces and rough demeanor, in a place so lighthearted and mundane.

“That does sound like Juza-san,” was his curt reply.

The white noise around them felt a little too overwhelming all of a sudden. Sakyo hummed.

“Time sure flies.”

Azami sneered. “Feel old yet? Do you also get back pains when it’s about to rain?”

Their squabble dragged on for a while, until a waiter approached them with their orders. One black coffee for Sakyo, at which Azami shot a look of disapproval, and one nutritionally balanced meal set for himself. Suddenly Azami became hyper-aware of how hungry he was.

“Don’t forget your manners,” Sakyo piped in, because he was a killjoy who enjoyed poking his nose into other people’s business.

Azami’s patience was wearing thin. “Lay off, I’m not a damn child,” he snapped back between munches.

“Say that again without some sauce smeared on your cheek, maybe then I’ll reconsider.”

“Huh?”

Sakyo raised his hand from where it had been resting on the table, but froze mid-air and retreated, fingers balling into a fist. In the end he pointed at a spot near his own lips, a gesture Azami subsequently mirrored by reflex.

“Left cheek. A bit lower,” Sakyo nodded. “There you go.”

Azami felt his fingers landing on something sticky. His cheeks heated up. Immediately he licked it clean to dismiss his embarrassment.

“Shaddup. Your bottomless nagging distracted me,” he spat, attempting his best to not stutter.

Sakyo’s brows arched. “Care to repeat that?”

Better get your hearing checked alongside your vision, grandpa, Azami was about to bite back, but right at that moment Sakyo’s phone suddenly rang, interrupting their escalating argument. Both glanced at the phone in unison and peered at the caller’s ID on its blinking screen.

“It’s Makita,” said Sakyo as he stood from his seat. His tone had reverted into becoming all serious again in an instant, as if he didn’t lose his composure seconds prior. “Wait for a bit, bon.”

Azami grimaced. “Don’t call me that in public, seriously…”

Sakyo was already speaking on the phone by the time he left their table. Azami waited until the last of his blond strands disappeared behind the fogged glass of the automatic door before putting his cutleries down. He picked up the menu from an unoccupied adjacent table, then began skimming through the pages.

Appetizers, main courses, desserts… Azami nodded to himself, and once he had made up his mind, raised a hand.

“Excuse me!”

* * *

When Sakyo returned, his eyes widened to the size of plates. 

“The hell is going on here.”

The temperature inside the restaurant dropped several degrees without having anything to do with the weather. Had their situation been different, Azami would’ve found his unfiltered shocked reaction hilarious. 

“It’s just salad, surely your aged metabolism can handle it? They put in a lot of avocados and radishes too, they’re good for your skin,” Azami blithely responded.

To be honest, calling what was on the table “just salad” is a big understatement, since there were also spring rolls and several other snacks that Azami found appealing yet forgot the name of. It sure wasn’t “just salad” by a normal person’s standards, let alone a chronically stingy man like Sakyo.

Sakyo didn’t budge in the slightest. “Quit playing around,” he threatened.

Azami’s attempt to ignore the protest by resuming to nibble on his steak and pretend that nothing had happened didn’t achieve much success. If anything, it only served to fuel Sakyo’s temper.

Azami breathed out, shoulders sagging in surrender. “Alright, maybe I did get a little carried away. But so what? You’re here and you can help me stuff some of these.”

 _Uh-oh, wrong move,_ he thought as soon as the words left his lips. For a terrifying second there he swore that he could literally see a dark aura radiating from Sakyo. Azami bit his tongue and cursed under his breath.

If Sakyo were to have an outburst here and then, inevitably their argument would soon get physical (one of the reasons being Azami’s own pride, ‘cause like hell he’d sit back and watch as Sakyo criticize him for every single mistake he did spanning from recently until years ago), but unlike how it usually was at the dorm, here in the restaurant there would be no one to break their fight. And as eager as Azami was to throw Sakyo a well-deserved punch, he’d rather not have people calling the cops on them.

Apparently Sakyo was also of the same mind, as his attempt to contain his anger suggested. Instead of exploding right off the bat, the countdown seemed to stop once it had reached zero and the bomb defused itself. Sakyo pinched the bridge of his nose. His expression morphed from rage to mere disappointment.

“Azami…”

It sounded like the beginning of an endless lecture. Having no intention to sit through Sakyo’s rant, without a second thought Azami blurted out, “come on, you always nag me to respect my meals. I thought you hate wasting food?”

“This isn’t about—”

Azami swallowed dry. Tasuku’s words during the moon festival echoed in his ears.

“Hey, Shithead Sakyo.”

“Dammit, what?” Sakyo growled. “Stop interrupting me when I speak!”

“...Aren’t you hungry?”

To his own surprise, Sakyo went quiet at the remark, lips pressing into a thin line. While Azami was debating whether to persuade him through more straightforward means, Sakyo reluctantly settled down in his seat, and Azami came to realize that he had won the battle.

_Well, that was easy._

The metaphorical celebratory fist he punched into the air was rewarded with another glare from Sakyo, who somehow had been able to read through his silent gestures alone. A resigned sigh was heard.

“Geez, you’re no less meddlesome than Sakoda.”

Azami scoffed. “We learned from the best.”

“Don’t try me, brat.”

Sakyo murmured in his usual grouchy manner, but lowered his head nonetheless. He put his hands together. “Thank you for the food,” he whispered, so quietly it was almost inaudible in the midst of the idle chatter surrounding them.

The rest of their lunch elapsed without further disturbance. Steadily, the rain falling outside lessened into a light drizzle.

**Author's Note:**

> there arent enough english fics exploring the dynamic between these two...


End file.
